


Bad Boy

by RiverSoul



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Add your own freaking tags if I forgot something, BAMF John, Dirty Talk, Masters, Multi, Not really BDSM, Spanking, Top John, just kidding here are cookies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverSoul/pseuds/RiverSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is annoyed by his fame and bored by his girlfriend when suddenly a Bamf!John comes along...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Boy

Sherlock stretched. What a nice day! Lazily, he looked over to his new girlfriend, who was reading a book. Trash lit, of course... But these days, he just needed a girlfriend every once in a while. Without the promise of irregular sex and diamonds, he couldn’t make anybody listen to his deductions for hours on end. Usually, Sherlock would be bored on a day like this, but he had just reorganized his mind palace and now he would nick some newspapers to see of he could find any new cases. Besides, he could work on his tan. He had heard that Jennifer, the new waitress at the pub across the street, liked tanned guys. And working in a Pub, she must be a good listener. She would have to quit her job, of course, but Sherlock could afford that. 

Sarah looked up from her book and smiled at him. “You’re alright, honey?” 

Honey... Sherlock suppressed a frown, but in his career as a world famous detective he had learnt that you had to be nice to the girls to keep them for a while. Stupid as most of them were. “Wonderful, darling,” he purred. 

Besides, he could practice his acting skills with her. He had already managed to fake an orgasm twice, something which was supposed to be impossible for men. He kissed Sarah, a simple brushing of lips, but sometimes that was all a woman needed.

When he looked up again, Sherlock’s eyes fell on a short blond man who was walking by. And stayed there. Broad shoulders, slight limp, probably symptomatic, hadn’t gotten a leg over recently, but certainly wanted to... Suddenly, the man looked up and their eyes met. “Soldier, he used to be a soldier,” Sherlock’s mind supplied, but for some reason he couldn’t quite concentrate. 

“Honey?” 

This time Sherlock almost scowled. “What is it?”

“Who is that guy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you do, you know everything,” Sarah purred, “come on, detect something for me!”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Sherlock said and walked over to the guy, who suddenly looked away, probably aware that he was staring. Which was impolite. Which Sherlock liked. 

“Iraq or Afghanistan?”, he asked. 

“Sorry?”

“The war you’ve been in, was it Iraq or Afghanistan?”, Sherlock asked, more patiently than usual. Those blue eyes, not quite innocent, but so soft... 

“Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you...?” 

“You’re walking like you’re from the military. When I started talking to you, you stood to attention, so you came back recently. Tan, but not above the wrists, so work, not pleasure. Warm country, then. Only fitting countries we’re currently invading are Iraq and Afghanistan. Easy, really.”

“Brilliant,” the blond man said.   
“That’s not what people usually say,” Sherlock remarked. 

“What do they usually say?” 

“’Piss off’ or ‘Can I have an autograph?’” 

The other man laughed. “You are famous then?”

“Kind of,” Sherlock snorted, “but I am trying to keep a low profile.” 

“Why?” 

“They were trying to make me wear a deerstalker!”

The blond man laughed again. “I’m John, by the way, John Watson.” 

“My name is Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes.” 

They shook hands. John’s grip was firm, his hand only slightly trembling. Yes, a shag would definitely do him good, Sherlock mused.

Sarah came over to them. “Sherlock, don’t you want to introduce me?” 

“Shush,” Sherlock answered, “go inside, I think I’ve seen one of those make-up giveaways lying around you like to try out.”

Sarah smiled and gave him a peck on the lips. “You really know what a woman needs,” she said, threw her mane of blond hair back and walked back into the house, her hips moving from side to side. Sherlock didn’t even look.

“Your girlfriend?”, John asked.

“For this week, yes.” 

“She’s beautiful... wait, did you say for this week?” 

“I usually change them every week, otherwise they get unbearable.” 

John stared at him. “Oh come on,” Sherlock huffed, “you would get bored by her as well.” 

“Why don’t you find someone more intelligent then?” 

“They try to compete with me and that gets boring too... besides, many criminals have a weakness for beautiful woman, especially when they are blond.” 

“Criminals? What’s your profession then? You don't look like a police officer.“ 

Sherlock smiled. “Detective,” he announced proudly, “consulting detective, the only one in the world.” 

“So you take her to cases then? As a... mascot?” 

“I don’t need a mascot. But she helps me think. I need someone to talk to, to tell everything I have detected. And I can’t take a scull to crime places, especially not when I need both of my hands and need to get there quickly.” 

“But wouldn't that be easier as well, if you had someone intelligent with you? Maybe someone who would see the case from a different angle?”

“Are you applying for a job?” 

“No... that’s not what I meant,” John looked slightly confused, “I just wanted to say... you’re too good for her.” He blushed slightly then. 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t thought of that option yet. “You want a shag then?”

John stared at him again, mouth slightly open. Which looked slightly stupid. Which looked slightly attractive to Sherlock. “No, no... I’m not gay!”, John exclaimed. 

“Of course,” Sherlock said, “your place or mine?” 

“Your girlfriend just...” 

“Oh, don’t mind her... it’s not like she has never seen two guys having sex before... might be her first time seeing it live, though.” 

“But you’re her boyfriend.” Sherlock frowned. 

“You think this might be a problem?” 

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” John turned around and started to leave.

Sherlock followed him. “Wait, where are you going?” 

“You can detect that, can’t you?” 

Sherlock stepped in front of him and griped both of his shoulders. “Wait.” 

“What for? That you turn into a beautiful mermaid?” 

Sherlock looked at him in confusion. “People tend to find my appearance attractive.” 

“You’re a monster!”, John said, “I will not be the one to help you break your girlfriend’s heart. And then, if anyone is still interested, I’m really not gay.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “She’s not IN LOVE with me, if that's what you mean. She's just after my fame and money.” 

“That doesn’t make it alright, Sherlock! You can’t just run around shagging other people!”, John shouted.

Sherlock ogled him, but still didn't loosen his grip. This VOICE! “Maybe you should teach me some manners, then,” he almost whispered. 

“What?” 

“Manners, John. You want me to be nice, right? What if you just... make me?” 

“I don’t think I can just 'make you' a good person, Sherlock. There are too many things you already did.” But John didn’t step back, didn’t try to escape Sherlock’s grip. 

“Punish me then,” Sherlock said. 

John frowned. “Is this some kink of you? Spanking? Pain? Really Sherlock?” 

Sherlock let go of John’s shoulders and stepped back from the shorter man. What the hell was he doing? He never had sex with a man before, he had never been interested... long preparations, you had to be very careful the first time, he had heard... he preferred it quick and pain free. But then these blue eyes caught him again. 

“Answer me,” John barked, now seeming to be aware of the power his voice had over the detective. 

“I don’t know, really,” Sherlock answered, hesitantly. It was always hard to admit that he didn’t know something. 

“Kiss me, then,” John said. 

Sherlock frowned. Obviously, John was sure that the detective wouldn’t do it, but Sherlock never showed any fear. He leaned in and kissed John softly on the lips. At first, the shorter man was too surprised to react, but then he answered the kiss, which slowly became more heated. It had to do with the weather, of course. The sun always made Sherlock a bit giddy. The detective grabbed John’s head with both hands to have more control over the kiss, which the shorter man only answered by putting his hands in the detective’s hair and pulling at it. 

John nudged the taller man’s lips open with his tongue, which soon resulted in a tongue fight both men were eager to win. Finally, John broke the kiss and gasped. “Bedroom.” 

“With my girlfriend in it?”, Sherlock asked. 

“Oh, you prick,” John growled. His head seemed to be still spinning from the kiss. Sherlock laughed and started removing John’s t-shirt. 

“What are you doing?”, John asked. 

“Obvious, isn’t it?” 

“We’re next to a public pool, in the middle of a sidewalk, in broad daylight.” 

“Private pool,” Sherlock corrected him, “and on a work day, in a calm area. It’s not like anyone’s around. But if it bothers you...” He pulled on John's t-shirt and moved them closer towards the pool, so they were at least partly covered by bushes. Before John could react to that in any way, he was thoroughly snogged again, Sherlock working on his trousers this time. Before long, his trousers and pants had gone and Sherlock stopped kissing him for a moment, to remove his t-shirt completely. 

John took the chance to ask: “So this is all yours?” 

“Hum,” Sherlock said, distracted by a scar on John’s shoulder. “Bullet?”, he asked. 

John, suddenly self-conscious, murmured: “Yes, does it bother you?”   
Sherlock kissed the scar in reply and moved his hands down John’s muscular body, towards his groin. The smaller man also couldn't resist any longer and put his hands on Sherlock’s wonderfully round ass. The detective began stroking John's cock, slowly and thoroughly, just like the smaller man liked it. They had started kissing again and John moaned into Sherlock's mouth, massaging the detective's ass with abandon. Soon, the taller man couldn't take it any longer and moved them to the edge of the pool. 

Before John could realize what was happening, Sherlock moved away from him, got out of his swimming trunks, the only piece of clothing he had been wearing, and jumped into the water. But the blond man only took a moment to react and jumped in right after him. The water cooled both men down, but only for a minute. They started kissing again and soon they were rutting against each other, both incredibly hard. Sherlock tried to push John, but the smaller man used his compact muscular frame to turn them around and suddenly the detective was the one pressed against the wall of the pool. 

They both moaned loudly when John had finally found a good position to push against Sherlock properly. “Yes, like that,” Sherlock said and put his legs around John’s ass. John, in his turn, put his hands on Sherlock's hips, having no problem holding him up in the water. Then he started moving, rubbing his cock against Sherlock's, who had put his arms around John. The detective bumped against the pool wall with every of the smaller man's pushes, but suddenly pain didn't matter any more, was almost pleasurable. 

John kissed Sherlock again, messily, moving quicker at the same time. “Can you come like that?”, he mumbled around the detective's mouth. The Sherlock gave an affirmative huff and moaned loudly into John’s mouth. Suddenly, the shorter man's pushes became erratic, he put his head into his neck and shouted out. Sherlock felt a warm stream against his upper leg and this made him come as well. He moaned and pushed against John's stomach, still holding onto the shorter man's neck.

When he was spent, Sherlock went limp and was very grateful for the strong arms still holding him. “So, you’re not gay and I'm not really interested in sex”, he summed up the day's events. John laughed in reply. “And I still haven’t tried the punishing thing.”


	2. Punishment

Sherlock walked into his living room with a glass of Martini in his hand, stark naked. His girlfriend was sitting in front of the TV, watching some soap or other. 

“Sarah, you will need to get your things,” the detective told her.

“Mh?” Sarah looked up to him in confusion.

“I’m shagging men now,” Sherlock explained. 

“Oh, that’s ok,” Sarah said, her eyes going back to the TV screen. 

“Exclusively.” 

Sarah looked up again. “Why?” 

“Because you’re a waste of space and your thinking is lowering the IQ of the whole street and I can’t take it anymore!”, the detective exploded. 

“Oh, right,” Sarah said, “and what does that have to do with sex?” 

Sherlock glared at her. “It’s bad, sex with you is bad! I thought I couldn’t live with that, but sex with men is so much better!” 

His girlfriend now started to get angry as well. “It was this guy right, this soldier guy? He turned your head!” 

The detective frowned at her. “How do you know he was a soldier?” 

“Obvious, isn’t it?”, Sarah asked. 

“Of course it’s obvious to ME, but...” Sherlock’s frown became even deeper. “But this can’t be... you can’t... THINK.”

Sarah laughed. “Oh come on, Sherlock, you didn’t really fall for all of this? The stupid attitude, the slutty clothes, the died hair...”

“I told you to die your hair blond!” 

“...the bad sex...”

“You... FAKED bad sex?” Sherlock could only stare at her in amazement. “But that's BRILLIANT!”

His girlfriend laughed. “I knew you would like it.” 

“But why...?” 

“Smart is the new sexy, Sherlock. And as you obviously liked stupid girls, I knew that this was the way to go.” 

“But then you knew as well, that I wouldn’t stay with you,” Sherlock remarked. 

“This is what this is for,” Sarah said and retrieved a needle from under a couch cushion. 

“Drugs?”, the detective asked. “Isn’t that a bit... dull?” 

Sarah laughed again. “Well, first I would have used your riding crop on you.” 

“And why are you telling me this now?” 

Sarah sighed. “Because this stupid soldier came along, ruining my plans. As soon as you become more attached to him, he will look after you and make sure that there will be no harm done to you... so I had to put the drugs in your drink instead. Dull, sure, but very effective.”

Sherlock stared at his already half empty glass. Suddenly the room started to swim in front of his eyes. “John!”, he shouted, “John, help!”

“Oh no, you won’t,” Sarah said, suddenly riding crop in hand. And she knew how to use it. She hit her naked boyfriend, hard. First across the chest, then she moved behind him, kicked him, so he would fall in the floor and hit his back. She would have gotten on with her plan to keep the world's only consulting detective as her forced lover, if one former army doctor (not soldier, actually...) had not still be in Sherlock’s pool, naked and a bit confused.

John got out of the pool at once, when he heard the shout for help. Not caring about (or even remembering) his current nakedness, he ran through the open door to Sherlock’s living room and jumped right at the woman tormenting his newly found lover. Sarah tried to shake him off, but really didn’t stand a chance against the much bulkier frame of John Watson. Unfortunately, the former army doctor hadn’t planed his attack through, so his vigorous attack led to Sarah loosing her balance and falling on top of her drugged boyfriend, pulling John down with her. 

Strangely enough, Sherlock was the first to partly recover from this. He wriggled himself out of the heap of bodies and, half sitting up, looked down on the other two. “Whadayadoin?“, he slurred. John and Sarah looked up at him, then both tried to sit up and held each other down at the same time. 

The detective, however, didn’t even seem to pay any attention. “Y’knowwhadstrange?”, he asked. “I's suddenly horny.” Sarah and John stopped their attempts to get up and starred at him. 

Finally, John sat up as well, Sarah being still too perplexed to hinder him. “Sherlock, are you ok?” 

“Yesssssssss,” Sherlock uttered, “feelin’fine. Butbutbut’horny! Wannashag?” 

John looked at the detective's girlfriend now. “What have you done to him?” 

Sarah sat up as well and laughed. “Oh, just something to make him dizzy and something to make him horny, nothing to worry about, little man.” 

“I am NOT little!”; John said.

Sherlock started to giggle. “No, he’s certainly not! He’s quite big, really!” 

Both of the others stared at him. “You are talking normally again!”, John said. 

The detective rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, do you really think I am that easy to drug?” 

“But you said you were horny,” Sarah said. 

“Yes, but I'm ALWAYS horny. You should know that. Sorry about before, by the way, the sex was great, just wanted to see how you would react.” 

“Did you just say ‘sorry’?” Sherlock chuckled. “John wanted me to have some manners, I might just start with that. What’s your real name, by the way? Couldn’t find that out.” 

“Irene, Irene Adler,” Sarah... um... Irene said, picking up the riding crop again and handing it to John. “You might need that.”

John raised an eyebrow. “For what?” 

“Teaching him manners.” 

“Oh, no, I won’t hurt him.” 

Sherlock made a strange whining noise. “But I LIKE it.” 

“I’m a doctor and I will certainly not hit you, Sherlock.” 

“Oh, but of COURSE,” the detective hit his face with his palm, “doctor! Army doctor, not soldier! How could I miss that?” 

Irene sighed. “You were probably busy trying to figure out how best to get him laid.” 

John said: “So you said sex with her was... great?” He blushed slightly. 

Sherlock chuckled. “Well, I didn’t say mind-blowing. And of course it was great, I was in it!” 

Irene took the riding crop from John again and whipped Sherlock slightly over the chest with hit.

“Stop it!” the doctor barked. 

“Oh, you two,” Sherlock moaned, cupping his crotch with both of his hands. 

“This could get interesting,” Irene remarked, sipping from the glass of clearly-not-drugged Martini she had recovered from Sherlock earlier. John looked at Irene, then at the detective, then at Irene again. 

“Oh come on, ” Sherlock groaned, “this isn't such a hard decision.“ 

“What?”, the doctor asked. 

“Both!”, Sherlock said, “you’ll have to punish us both!”


	3. Beast

Irene got up, stretching and dropping the riding crop right in front of John. 

John looking up at her and swallowed. He hadn’t really seen her before and all of her gorgeousness. The blond hair quirked him a bit as it didn’t really suit her, but otherwise she was perfect: Lean body, good curves, red lips and cheekbones almost as impressive as Sherlock's. 

This situation was crazy, utterly ridiculous. But he could as well make the most of it. Maybe he would wake up soon and realize it was all a dream, but this would be alright with him then. 

He picked the riding crop off the floor and stood up as well. "Ok, you first," he said, looking at Irene. 

Irene gave him a cheeky smile. “You think you’re up to it, then, little man?”

John slapped her bum with the riding crop, making her jump. “First of all, you call me ‘Master’ and nothing else, is that understood?”

Irene became suddenly serious. “Yes, Maser,” she answered. 

Sherlock got up too now and sat on the couch. “This will be interesting indeed,” he exclaimed.

John hit the whip at the floor, making it crack loudly. “Hey, I didn’t tell you to get comfortable, did I?”, he shouted at Sherlock.

The detective jumped from his seat at once, standing to attention. This voice again! “What do you want me to do, Master?” he asked. 

“Get her undressed,” John ordered.

Sherlock complied, helping Irene to get her rather short skirt and tight tank top off. “Underwear too?”, he asked. 

“No, leave it on for the moment,” John said. He certainly liked the sight of black lace on those well toned ass cheeks. “Now turn around,” he addressed the woman, “put your hands on this couch table, please, and lean over it.”

Sherlock suppressed a smirk. Had their “Master” just said “please”?

“Show me that arse, yes that’s good,” John praised Irene. 

The detective swallowed again. The “soldier” was really getting into this, it seemed… he had created a monster!

“You’re gonna spank me now, Master?”, Irene purred.

“Yes, I will,” John answered, “twenty lashes should be fine for now, but you’ll have to count. If it gets too much, just shout ‘stop’.”

“Very creative safe word, Master,” Sherlock laughed. 

John glared at him. “I don’t give safe words, I’m not into sado-maso.”

“What is this then?", Sherlock inquired. "Master," he added mockingly. 

“I’m gonna spank her, cause she’s been a bad girl,” John explained, “then I’m gonna spank you, cause you’ve been a bad boy. Then we're gonna fuck."

A monster indeed. But no monster who played mind games. Just plain old fucking-and-a-bit-of-violence-beast. Sherlock smiled. This certainly was his favourite kind of beast, even if he had never made its acquaintance before. 

“You ready, Irene?”, John went back to the task at hand. 

“Yes, ready, Master,” the woman complied, stretching her behind out a bit more. 

John landed his first strike and Irene counted “One,” still sounding quite relaxed about it. 

John hit again, harder this time, and Irene’s “Two” already sounded a bit out of breath.

“Three” and “Four” came quickly after each other, making Irene’s cheeks blush a wonderful pink. 

Irene’s “Five” almost came out as a moan and by that John and Sherlock were both standing to attention, staring on that beautiful behind.

“We need a plan B, John,” Sherlock remarked.

“Is that so?”, John asked, whipping Irene twice more, "And you're supposed to call me master."

“If we’ll make it to twenty… who is going to fuck her first, Master?”, Sherlock inquired.

“Stupid question,” the other man said, making Irene moan “Eight”, “me of course, I'm the Master.”

“Right,” Sherlock said, “and you’re leaking on the carpet, Master.”

“I’m so going to whip the cheek out of you,” John groaned and Irene shouted “Nine” and “Ten” as if in answer. 

“If you’ll still have any strength left in you then, Master," Sherlock said, “giving that you’re gonna shag the hell out of her in ten.”

John forced himself to keep his hand steady and not to place his strikes too quickly after each other, giving Irene time to recover. 

“Eleven,” Irene panted, “Twelve.”

“You’re getting her so wet, Master,” Sherlock said, “bet she’s already dripping.”

“She better be,” John groaned between his teeth and whipped Irene’s delicious bum again. 

“Thirteen,” came the answer, now clearly rutting against the whip. God, this woman was enjoying this. 

John wasn’t sure if he would make it to twenty at this point. He quickly pressed out a “Fourteen” and “Fifteen” out of Irene.

“You’re so hard,” the detective remarked, “she'll have her fun with your cock. She likes them fat and hard as wood."

Strangely enough, Sherlock’s porn talk really did it for John and at Irene’s close to obscene "Sixteen" he almost lost it. 

“Gotta give her your juice, Master,” the detective complied. 

“Fuck,” John groaned, “look at those beautiful red cheeks.” He hit them hard. “Seventeen,” Irene moaned.

“You want me, Irene?”, John asked and whipped her again. 

“Eighteen,” she groaned, and: “Yes, Master.”

“Want my cock, you slut?”, John asked and gave her another strike. 

“Nineteen,” Irene answered, and: “Do it now, Master.”

“Almost there,” John said and gave her the final strike.

“Twenty,” Irene shouted, and: “Come inside of me, Master."

John couldn’t be quick enough to comply. He threw the riding crop to the floor and jumped her right then and there. 

Sherlock could only ogle at that sudden loss of control. 

And yes, Irene was wet if he had ever felt a wet pussy. Dripping hot and delicious. He pushed into her in one quick movement and she certainly didn’t complain.   
After that it was all grunting and moaning, animalistic coupling, which was only interrupted by Sherlock's remarks. Well, not interrupted, really, but spurred on:

“Yes, give it to her, John... fuck her! Yes, like that, I know she likes it. Looks so good from here, nnnnngh.” At that, the famous detective also lost his ability to talk. 

John slammed into Irene again and again, holding onto her hips, and Irene in turn held onto the table for dear life. The former army doctor knew he was going to come soon and he was going to come hard, but he didn’t mind, he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. This was just so good! And Sherlock’s moaning in the background only made it better.

“Fuck, yes, Master, don’t hold back!", Irene spurred John on.

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes, oh God, yesyesyes, Fuck!”, John shouted and came, feeling Irene coming at the same time. He felt the walls around his penis contracting while he was still shooting his sperm into her.

“Ooooooooh, Joooooohn!,” Sherlock suddenly shouted and John felt something warm splatter on his ass.

“You're a pig, Sherlock” the former army doctor remarked when he had calmed down enough from his climax. 

“Why?”, the detective asked, “Now you’re going to have to punish me even more and we’re going to have even more sex, it will be amazing!”

John shook his head and laughed.

“Insatiable, isn’t he?”, Irene asked. 

“Just because I've never gotten what I really wanted," Sherlock pouted. 

“And what is this?”, John inquired.

“A beauty and a beast,” the detective answered.


End file.
